


resistance

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Series: Khlyen/Turin unrelated [1]
Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 06:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21011606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: The moments after Khlyen drags Turin from the hanger.





	resistance

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone's notepad app. Just, the fact Turin wasn't hullinized has been sitting in my brain.   
May continue this.

* * *

* * *

  
It hurt when the knife went through him - of course it hurt, he'd been _stabbed_. Impaled, really. But even as Turin lay there, gasping like a fish, in the back of his mind he knew this wasn't going to kill him.

The tricky Level 6 bastard had managed a debilitating, but nonfatal wound. _Well, if I don't bleed to death._ Turin snorted at his own thoughts. 

Still, it stung his pride that he was helpless against the 6's strength as he was dragged from the hanger bay, his blood painting a crimson trail after them.

~*~

He'd expected an interrogation, but again the traitor surprised him by hauling Turin up and to his feet. With ringing ears, Turin stumbled away from his attacker; his hands shook hard when he laid one on the wall, bracing himself. The first touches of shock made the world seem thin and bright, but he viciously shoved it away; he needed his wits if he was to survive.

Khlyen had the gall to look concerned, stepping towards him with hands reaching for Turin.  
"Forgive me, I had forgotten how delicate human bodies can be." said Khlyen, ignoring the curse Turin threw at him, the Killjoy shrinking away.

The light, conversational tone only pissed Turin off more. Here he was with even less answers, Dutch and her merry pair of dumbasses still loose on the Quad. He was glaring needles at the taller man, too tired to flee but far to angry not to snarl at him

"Why not give me the knife and I can make us even? Because I'm not telling you shit." Turin staggered and then caught himself, blood shining on his shirt in the harsh emergency lighting. He couldn't feel the hand he clutched to his chest, but could smell the tang of his own blood as it seeped between his fingers. _Good thing I wore black._

Grey encroached the edges of his vision. When Khlyen stepped towards him, the Killjoy tried to back away but the ringing grew, until it drowned out Khlyen's voice, and his irritating face swam sickeningly.

"You... _B-bastard_," Turin snarled, before his vision went dark and he sank into unconsciousness, collapsing.

Khlyen stepped forward, catching him as he toppled, and easing the injured man to the ground. He took no notice of the blood soaking into his jacket, as he lifted Turin in his arms, his slight frame limp. Unconscious, his face was lax. Softer, almost like sleep. Khlyen brushed a strand of red hair from his face, curling it behind Turin's ear. 

He paused a moment, and made his decision. The green might save the outer shell, but Turin would be a husk. None of the fire that he had just seen would survive.

Which would be a terrible loss.

He would take him to be healed, as well as human medicine could. After that, there would be time for his questions.


End file.
